The Dark at the End
SATURDAY Chapter 19
Glaeken had given him a key to the elevator. Jack entered the darkened apartment, knowing he'd find him up. He was right. He spotted him by the big picture window, silhouetted against the glow of the snowy city.
Three and a half hours on the road to get here, dreading and anticipating this moment.
"Well?"
Glaeken didn't turn from the window.
"You're asking me if he lives?"
"Yes."
"You don't know?"
"I blew him up, set him on fire, and blew him up again. But I couldn't confirm the kill. What's left of him is somewhere on or under Gardiner's Bay."
Glaeken sighed. "He lives."
Jack dropped onto the couch and let his head drop back. "Shit."
"But barely. Just barely."
"What's that mean?"
Now Glaeken turned but Jack could not see his features. He imagined a pretty grim expression.
"Ever since his rebirth he has been a presence, a dissonant hum between my ears. That hum is still there, yet it has grown so faint in the past few hours that it hovers on the edge of perception. He is severely wounded, perhaps mortally so. He is dying."
"But he's not dead."
The silhouette shook its head. "No. Not yet."
Jack didn't know what more he could do. Be great if he knew someone in the Coast Guard. He could commandeer a cutter and go out in the storm with a harpoon, searching for what was left of Rasalom.
Yeah, right.
"Tell me the circumstances."
Jack recounted the progression of events during the four fateful minutes in Nuckateague.
Glaeken shook his head. "I don't see what else you could have done."
"I could have gotten more up close and more personal."
"And if you had, you might not be here describing your travails."
Jack banged the arm of the couch with a fist. "I don't know what else to do."
"We wait. From the sound of what you put him through, he must die soon. Unless..."
The last thing Jack wanted to hear right then was an unless.
"Unless what?"
"Unless someone helps him. But his two attendants are dead, and the storm is keeping everyone inside. Where could he find help?"
"He could wash up near the house and some rescue worker could spot him and pull him out. Some CPR, some IV fluids, some hypothermia treatment, and some do-gooder could assure the end of life as we know it."
"What are the chances?"
"Who knows? I listened to the radio all the way in. Plenty of talk about the fire and the three bodies, but not a word about a survivor."
"Yet."
Jack nodded. "Let's turn on the TV and keep posted as to whether there's a sole survivor of this terrible tragedy. Because if there is, he's going to require a late-night consultation by Doctor Jack to finish the job."
Three and a half hours on the road to get here, dreading and anticipating this moment.
"Well?"
Glaeken didn't turn from the window.
"You're asking me if he lives?"
"Yes."
"You don't know?"
"I blew him up, set him on fire, and blew him up again. But I couldn't confirm the kill. What's left of him is somewhere on or under Gardiner's Bay."
Glaeken sighed. "He lives."
Jack dropped onto the couch and let his head drop back. "Shit."
"But barely. Just barely."
"What's that mean?"
Now Glaeken turned but Jack could not see his features. He imagined a pretty grim expression.
"Ever since his rebirth he has been a presence, a dissonant hum between my ears. That hum is still there, yet it has grown so faint in the past few hours that it hovers on the edge of perception. He is severely wounded, perhaps mortally so. He is dying."
"But he's not dead."
The silhouette shook its head. "No. Not yet."
Jack didn't know what more he could do. Be great if he knew someone in the Coast Guard. He could commandeer a cutter and go out in the storm with a harpoon, searching for what was left of Rasalom.
Yeah, right.
"Tell me the circumstances."
Jack recounted the progression of events during the four fateful minutes in Nuckateague.
Glaeken shook his head. "I don't see what else you could have done."
"I could have gotten more up close and more personal."
"And if you had, you might not be here describing your travails."
Jack banged the arm of the couch with a fist. "I don't know what else to do."
"We wait. From the sound of what you put him through, he must die soon. Unless..."
The last thing Jack wanted to hear right then was an unless.
"Unless what?"
"Unless someone helps him. But his two attendants are dead, and the storm is keeping everyone inside. Where could he find help?"
"He could wash up near the house and some rescue worker could spot him and pull him out. Some CPR, some IV fluids, some hypothermia treatment, and some do-gooder could assure the end of life as we know it."
"What are the chances?"
"Who knows? I listened to the radio all the way in. Plenty of talk about the fire and the three bodies, but not a word about a survivor."
"Yet."
Jack nodded. "Let's turn on the TV and keep posted as to whether there's a sole survivor of this terrible tragedy. Because if there is, he's going to require a late-night consultation by Doctor Jack to finish the job."
